


icarus in your blood

by jaekyu



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, Other weird stuff that comes with this trope, Wing Kink, Wing Worship, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaekyu/pseuds/jaekyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wings are anything but plainly normal. Mark hates them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	icarus in your blood

**Author's Note:**

> a word of caution: this fic contains a scene in which persom a is sexually aroused by something person b is doing and person b has no idea. they both discuss it and are fine with it later on - but i just wanted to mention it in case that might be something some people want to avoid.
> 
> otherwise, please enjoy.

icarus is flying too close to the sun

(ICARUS, bastille) 

 

 

   
There is no logical explanation for the wings, as far as any of them can tell.

Which is - that's stupid. Is it always easy to wave off, with a smile and a confident explanation, the sudden appearance of wings? Are they _supposed_ to be able to just pull whatever reason Mark now has a _wing span_ out of thin air?

The wings are large, the kind of large that can feel endless. Their colour is white - and they are so white it's like the project their own light, so bright it's nearly blinding. The only thing they know besides that is that they weren't there one night before bed and suddenly fully grown the next morning. Grafted to Mark's back like they had always belonged, protruding so proud with their wing span and full feathers.

Even baby birds have to grow their feathers.

 

- 

 

Jackson is the first to notice them besides Mark, of course, because him and Mark are roommates and the wings aren't exactly something that you can miss. "Dude," Jackson says, ducking around the wings to avoid running face first into a wall of tough bone and soft feathers, "what the fuck?"

"I know," Mark replies. Except he doesn't really know anything at all. Nothing except he's got wings now, apparently. And even then - Mark's half tempted to pinch his arm to find out if this whole thing is real or not. He's only ninety-five percent sure he's not dreaming.

"The fans always do call you an angel," Jackson furrows his brow, "but you might be taking that a little too literally."

Mark's examining himself carefully in the full length mirror they have in their room, the one that stands precariously against the wall at a small angle. Mark can see from above his head to just above his sockless feet in it. He tries to remain conscious of the fact that with one swift movement of the wings ( _his wings_ \- which is such a weird thought, that Mark is now a possessor of wings) he could send the mirror crashing to the floor and into a tiny pieces million pieces that would twinkle up at him. Then he'd have seven years a bad luck, too, which would really be the icing on the cake, wouldn't it?

Mark runs his fingers carefully over his neck and down to the bones of his shoulder blades, where the wings seem to have sprouted from and stitched against his skin. He's not sure what he expects to find there - maybe trauma from their sudden appearance. Something like scabbing or a trickle of blood, at least some soreness and tenderness when pressure is applied - but that's not the case. The wings sit there, looking and feeling as natural as something so unnatural can look and feel.

Once Jackson's initial shock has worn off it's replaced with the innate curiosity he's always has for most things, and the near fearlessness that comes with it. He'd jump off a cliff to test if he could fly if he were in Mark's position right now, no hesitation or doubt holding him back.

"You think we could Google this?" Jackson asks and it might be a joke but it sounds serious enough. Mark blinks, decides not to retort with the question of what the hell they would even type into the search bar.

Jackson turns to face Mark and survey the wings up close, reaching out one hand as if to drag two fingers along the length of one pure white feather.

The wings bristle, quivering against Mark's shoulders. It's a small movement, but the wings are so large it sends Jackson taking a step back.

Suddenly, it's as if Mark can feel them. The wings. Not in the physical sense, he's felt them physically since he woke with an added tug to the weight of his back, but in a mental one. There's tickling at the back of Mark's brain, telling him the wings don't like to be touched. Not like that and not so suddenly.

Jackson hand drops lamely by his side. "Sorry," Mark apologizes, "I didn't make them do that. I swear. I think they sort of - have a mind of their own?" Mark's turned a dark red now, biting his lip. Embarrassment creeps up in him despite the fact that he hadn't been in control of the wings when they shook Jackson off like that.

The tickling at the back of Mark's brain is gone now, replaced with a low buzz he could ignore without even trying. A low buzz as just a reminder they wings are still really there.

 

-

 

In Mark's twenty-and-some years of living, he's more or less mastered the art of being inconspicuous, unoticeable and easy to forget.

He finds it easy to not draw attention to himself after so much practice. Mark speaks a small amount and when he does it's very low and his movements are never jerky, always easy to calculate. In all the ways Jackson is unpredictable, Mark is the opposite. Which is maybe why they get along so well. Where Jackson is a loose canon filled with confetti, Mark is a carefully crafted demeanor he's been building since shyness had paralyzed him more than once as a kid. It's not meant to be fake or dishonest, just comfortable. Mark has no problems, has never had any problems, with being so plainly normal.

The wings, on the other hand, are anything but plainly normal. They are conpicuous, impossible not to notice and impossible to forget.

Mark hates them.

Jaebum calls a _Group Meeting_ , after Jackson goes to find him and tug him into his and Mark's room to expose the obvious overnight change. Jaebum blinks hard at Mark a few times when he first sees him. Like he's trying to knock the sleep out of his eyes, or force himself awake from a dream. Only Jaebum is wide awake, Jaebum is not dreamimg.

Group Meeting is the quickest way to say the seven of them are going to pile into their living room, half sitting on top of each other on the couch and all dreaming of better things they could be doing at that moment, and talk about this. This being the wings. Mark's wings.

His brain still doesn't quite understand those words together. His tongue still trips up on them.

"So," Kunpimook is the first to speak once they've all settled, wedged between Yugyeom and Youngjae, "can you like - fly?"

"I don't know," Mark replies. He's not sitting with the rest of them. He can't, the wings are still spread wide. They take up too much space for him to even want to try to find a spot that fits him, where nobody is swallowing mouthfuls of feather or is getting jabbed by the bends and joints. Mark stands in front of the couches, topless as he was this morning when the wings tore his sleeping shirt apart, with all of their eyes on him. He tries not to feel like an animal at the zoo. "I don't really wanna try either."

"GOT7 Member Jumps From Company Building," Jinyoung drolls from his corner of the room, "what a headline."

Jaebum has stayed awfully quiet this whole time, brows furrowed as he takes in the dips and bends of Mark's new appendages. Mark and Jaebum catch each other's eyes while Mark's is lip caught between his teeth, before the older one says, "I don't think we can do schedules today."

Jaebum shakes his head, "yeah, definitely not."

There had been some jealousy, sure, in the early days when they had picked Jaebum over Mark for leader. It made sense, objectively, because Mark was a foreigner who still spoke broken Korean and his personality wasn't fit for wrangling a mess of teenage boys. Subjectively, on the other hand, it was a hit to Mark's ego that bruised. If only a little.

In moments like this, however, when Jaebum's demeanor shifts just slightly. When Jaebum quietly trots away with his phone in hand and their managers contact page pulled up on screen, when he goes to disfuse situations that would make Mark anxious - Mark couldn't be more thankful they picked Jaebum over him.

Mark's not sure how he would have this conversation ( _I grew wings - yeah wings - and I can't do schedules. No, no, we really can't hide them their kind of huge. Yeah. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know -_ ) but he's confident Jaebum can manage.

 

-

  
They've been excused from group schedules. Some indivual schedules remain but what little amount there is don't belong to Mark, so those can proceed without any issues. Jaebum gives them a spiel after all is said and done. He talks to them about twitter silence and instagram inactivety. About how they can't really be sure what they could accidentally say or what could be lurking in the corners of photos. They all monotonely agree and file off afterwards.

Jackson helps Mark cut holes for the wings into the back of one of his oldest, rattiest t-shirts so Mark doesn't have to be half naked all day. It itches where the fabric of the shirt brushes against where the wings graft to his skin. The buzzing at the back of his head is back, letting Mark know the wings don't like it.

Mark scoffs. He wishes there was some way for him to fire back at the wings that he doesn't care. Do they think he's likes them at all?

Afterwards, Mark's at a loss with what to do with himself. Jackson makes a fanfare as he leaves to go film a variety episode, the youngest two take up the living room (that Mark can't properly fit into anyway) to play video games. The rest of them are off somewhere, minding their own buisiness and living their normal lives. Without wings, or anything like that, which is enough to make Mark a little jealous.

That and the fact that Mark has to be constantly worried about unconciously breaking something just by tilting his body a little too far in the wrong direction. Mark decides his best and almost only choice is to confide himself to his room. That's where he is now, sitting upright on his bed with his back aching and fucking around on his phone.

Mark entertains the idea of typing something like _woke up with wings_ or _suddenly had wing_ s into the search bar just to see what would happen. He even opens the safari app, but barely types out a word before he's shaking his head no. He decides to search diagram of bird wings instead, clicking over to the image results.

There's some bones in his wings that share the same name as ones in his arms, he learns. And bird bones are hollow and light to make up for the energy cost that comes with flying. Mark theorizes he definately can't fly then - if the heavier tug of the wings on his back muscles and his own unchanged body weight are any indicators.

Mark considers they way birds fold up their wings against their sides, tucked away in an almost organized way when they aren't needed. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the edges of his own wings, spread out as always. He wonders silently if they'd fold up against him too.

The wings don't seem to scratch at the back of his mind like they would dislike that, so Mark has permission at least. He can't move the wings himself though, they don't budge no matter how hard he thinks it. Maybe it's a skill he has to teach himself - but Mark really hopes he won't have the wings long enough to teach himself anything like that.

Still, he files the idea away. Maybe it's something worth trying.

 

-

 

It's almost 3 PM when Jaebum knocks on Mark's door and proceeds to walk in without being invited. Mark doesn't much care, all this time he's gotten used to the distinct lack of privacy that comes with being an idol. He used to miss it more, but these days it's more of a few and far between craving. These days, Mark barely registers Jaebum's entrance, only sliding his finger across his phone screen with bored ease.

Jaebum seems to consider the spot next to Mark on his bed for a split second, before realizing squeezing in there, in front of the wings, is nearly impossible without disturbing them. None one since Jackson has been comfortable enough with the wings to try and touch them, or even ask Mark about touching them. Sitting beside Mark would mean Jaebum would be incased by them from all angles, which Mark doesn't think would be anymore comfortable for him.

Jaebum takes a spot across from Mark on Jackson's bed instead. If the distinct zoo animal feeling returns, Mark pushes it too deep inside to dwell on it.

"How are you feeling?" Jaebum asks.

Mark shrugs, "I'm fine," he locks his phone and slides it into his pocket, "or, as fine as I can be." The wings shiver lightly, seemingly in agreement.

"Is there anything -" Jaebum starts, but he seems unsure of how to phrase the question. What do you ask someone in this situation? Mark's still got all his basic human needs, sure, but is there anything he gained when he suddenly sprouted his wings that he didn't have before?

"It's okay," Mark slouches, curving his spine just a little, and suddenly becomes hyperaware of the shooting pain spreading from his lower back to his shoulder blades. It throbs and Mark winces. The extra weight is starting to get to him.

"Are they," Jaebum asks, worry tugging at the edges of his voice, "are they heavy?"

"Yeah," Mark replies with a huff, reminded of all those bird bone diagrams. "I wish I could like - fold them back or something? They'd take up less space that way and I could lay down on my bed, maybe." Makr's bed sits pushed up against the wall, the foot of it creating and L shape with the foot of Jackson's. The wing span is too large for him to lay flat in the middle of his bed, without getting squashed against the wall. And while Mark's afraid to put any pressure on the wings directly by laying on his back, he could lie flat on his stomach if they weren't in the way.

Jaebum looks across the wings carefully, for what feels like the hundredth time that day. Everyone stares - as much as Mark dislikes it he doesn't blame them - and after so much of it Mark's not sure what feels more surreal. When people look at the wings like they are an extension of him, or when they look at the wings like they are an entirely seperate entity? It's impossible for Mark to deny or even ignore their existence, too, when people watch them so closely. They feel even heavier with sets of eyes on them.

"I could help?" Jaebum offers after a long silence, eyes finally tearing away from the wings. Mark furrows his brow. "I could try and - try and fold them for you? You can tell me if it hurts and I'll stop."

Mark weighs his options. It would be nice to be more compact, like the birds. He'd probably stop nearly tripping over stray feathers and being afraid to knock everything within six feet over. He doesn't think it would hurt either. The problems are the wings themselves, how they would react to Jaebum's hands of them. They had been so strongly against it when Jackson tried to touch them, Mark doesn't know what they'll feel about being pulled and pushed into position like Jaebum is suggesting.

"You can try it," Mark decides. "But they're - tempermental. So be careful. Go," Mark shifts a little, embarrased as he remembers the incident with Jackson. They hadn't told anybody. "Go slow, they don't like when people come at them too fast."

Jaebum nods, trusting. He rises from Jackson's bed, then, and approaches Mark slowly. The wings are still. Mark searches for the small buzz they make at the back of skull, like TV or radio static. It's there, unchanged, even as Jaebum moves closer. The weary feeling in Mark's gut doesn't stop but it keeps him alert, aware of the state of his wings.

When Jaebum is close enough to reach out and touch the wings shrink back but only slightly. Mark can feel the itch in his mind. It doesn't feel like fear, though, or discomfort. Nervousness, Mark decides, and nothing too intense to really make him worry.

Jaebum has already noticed the movement, however, and his eyes dart to Mark in question.

"It's okay," Mark tells him, truthfully "I think they're okay." While the wings do seem on the defensive - it's not the same knee-jerk unhappy reaction they had when Jackson had tried to touch them. Mark thinks it's safe for Jaebum to continue, keeping himself aware of those feelings at the back of his skull.

Jaebum's hand comes to the wings slowly, finding the jut of bent bone of Mark's wings, the highest point, and settling his palm against it gently. A long shiver passes through the wings, starting in the middle of Mark's spine and spreading out. Jaebum probably feels it vibrate through his arm. The wings still scratch at Mark's brain, weary, but not feeling the same distress they felt with Jackson. The slow and steady approach seems to work.

"Still good?" Jaebum asks, his hand still on Mark's wings. Mark nods. He can feel it - the warmth and smoothness of Jaebum's hands against his wings, can even feel the tips of Jaebum's fingers brushing against the feathers. "I think if you laid down on your stomach," Jaebum reasons, biting on his lip, "this would be easier."

Mark complies. Jaebum pulls the mattress off Jackson's bed, the unmade one of the two in the room, and drops it in the middle of the floor. The pressure relieves somewhat on Mark's back when Jaebum helps him maneuver onto his tummy. Carefully, without Mark breaking anything with his large wing span.

Jaebum puts his hand on the same spot as before, after Mark's settled, and it makes Mark breathe in sharply. The wings make no fuss. If there was a way Mark could think talk back to the wings, he would tell them that it's okay. He would tell them Jaebum is just trying to help.

Jaebum asks him if he's ready, massaging the muscles in Mark's wing while he waits for Mark to respond. Mark makes an affirmative grunt and Jaebum slides his hand down the curve of Mark's wing, palm catching against feathers and feeling along the strong bone.

And - oh.

Oh.

The wings are silent, save for a faint tick-tick that gets quieter and quieter each moment that's passed, but Mark doesn't think that will go away until they stopped being touched completely. It's not the wings this time it's - it's the way Jaebum's hand against his wings drops all the way into Mark's belly. It's the way it pools heat there, so low and so warm. It's the way Mark's confused, so confused, until Jaebum's hands wrap around the wings to begin pulling them inwards and Mark realizes.

Jaebum's hands on his wings feel just like if Jaebum's hands were on his dick.

Which - that is - _oh_.

Mark doesn't know how that works or how it happens. He doesn't know if this is why the wings were so put off by Jackson's touch, if it had nothing to do with how fast he approached it. (Then what makes Jaebum suitable canditate, Mark should ask but doesn't.)

He doesn't know why - but with every movement of Jaebum's hands against his wings Mark has to keep from rutting into the mattress he lays on. The feeling sets his body twinkling with live wires, in every joint and along every smooth expanse. It makes his skin itch and the back of his neck sweat. Mark wants to tell Jaebum to stop, but he's not sure how. Every time Mark tries open his mouth and get it out - he either has to shut it tight right way to keep a moan from escaping, or ends up biting at this tongue because the wings start protesting it.

Eventually, what seems agonizingly slow to Mark the wings are in place. They're folded neatly against Mark's back and Jaebum stands after he checks his work. Below him Mark lays, hard - achingly so - dick trapped between the bed and himself. "Is that better?" Jaebum asks. "Comfortable?"

Mark nods furiously, tongue lame and useless in his mouth. "I'm sort of -" Mark somehow manages shakily, "tired. Yeah - tired. I think I'm gonna nap," Mark winces at both the sound of his voice and the way his words don't seem sure.

Jaebum looks suspicious. The eyes he trains on Mark are beneath furrowed brows, carrying a hint of questioning to them. But Jaebum makes no fuss beyond that, agreeing easily and flicking Mark's light off as he leaves the room.

Mark lets out the quietest of sigh of relief he can manage, rolls his hips once against his mattress, and shoves his hand into his pants.

 

-

 

"So let me get this straight," Jacksons repeats. He's home from the shoot now. Mark's recounted him the not-so flattering story about how he had to jerk off twice because Jaebum touched his damn wings. "Your wings are basically an extension of your cock?"

Mark shakes his head, scrubbing his hands across his face. "No! At least, I don't think so. It doesn't feel like that."

Jackson chews thoughtfully on the candy he convinced their manager to let him stop at the convenience store and buy on the way home. When Jackson had first walked in, Mark had tried to steal a bite. He was met with firm denial. "That's what it sounds like," Jackson rebuttals.

"I know what it sounds like," Mark sighs, wrinkling his nose, "but it's not like that. I think they're just - they're just sensitive?"

"With a hardwire that goes straight to your dick and balls, obviously," Jackson says, nodding sarcastically. "Is that why they didn't want me to touch them? Because they didn't want you to get a semi?"

Mark doesn't correct Jackson on how he was hard enough to cry after the first slide of Jaebum's hands against the soft feathers of the wings, not just a half interested dick. Mark does this for two reasons. One being because Jackson and Mark share a lot, sure, but the volumes of Mark's erections aren't one of them. The other being that it's embarrassing and weird.

Mark shrugs in reply to Jackson's question, "maybe? I also think you scared them. You came at them so fast."

Jackson pops the last bit of his candy between his teeth, all hope of Mark getting a tiny piece lost when Jackson swallows. "Should I apologize? They seem emotional."

"It's weird when you do that."

"Do what?" Jackson asks.

"Talk about them like their a person or whatever. They don't have feelings." A lie. Mark's pretty sure they do, he's also pretty sure he has no idea how to explain that without sounding like he's loosing it.

"You do it."

"Yeah because they're my wings, Jackson."

 

-

 

What truly makes the wings intimidating, even with their size and shape and colour and all of it - is how much of a unknown entity they are. Mark and the rest of them have no idea where they came from, how they got here or what they're doing here.

They have no idea when will they leave?

They don't know, have no way of knowing, but that doesn't stop a tiny part of Mark from hoping he'll wake up in the next morning and the wings we'll have disappeared.

This is not the case. Mark tries not to be too disappointed when it isn't. He'd rather not have to give up being an idol because he grew wings.

He'd rather his group (his pseudo-family) not be dragged down by him.

It's a rough night. Whenever Mark's sleepy limbs and tired mind want him to turn over onto his back, a more comfortable position, the wings start screaming at him from the base of his skull. It jolts him awake without fail every time. As the night goes on it gets more and more frustrating. Eventually Mark buries his face in his pillow, tenses up all his bones and muscles and wants to scream.

Mark gets barely any hour and half's of sleep between his own body and the wings tugging him in two different directions at once. He wakes up sometime around sun up, blearily padding bare foot to the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth.

The wing stare back at him in the mirror, along with his own eyes that are rimmed a bruised black and purple. They're more compact now. The newly acquired tight position folded against Mark's back has helped - but their still noticeable, still obvious. And their prissy-ness has Mark looking like some angel-zombie hybrid right now.

The wings bristle at the comparison, Mark rolls his eyes. His patience for his wings has already wilted to somewhere near zero.

 

-

 

The wings stay for three days. Three days before their manager denies them cancelling anymore schedules and they release a statement that Mark is sick, Mark hurt himself, Mark's not well and will not be joining GOT7 today.

It's a hard pill to swallow, being left in the dorm when there's nothing actually wrong with Mark and he can't do anything to help himself.

He sends the rest of them off, they all wave goodbye and promise to bring him back dinner. Jaebum gently places a hand on Mark's left wing, a spot where it's folded near Mark's waist. A habit he's developed Mark wishes he hadn't. "Let us know if you need anything," he says.

Mark swallows hard and nod. Tries not to visibly shiver when Jaebum's hand drops from the wings, brushing lightly against the feathers the whole way.

Mark jerks off twice while everyone is gone. He tries not to think about Jaebum's hands on his wings, his soft feathers, his skin the first time.

The second time he gives up and let's his mind wander.

 

-

 

"We're having a comeback soon," Jaebum tells Mark. Mark blinks, watches the solemn look on Jaebum's face as he looks over the wings Mark still has (six days, it's been six days).

Mark clenches his fist, unclenches, sets his jaw. "You don't think I'd have gotten rid of them already if I knew how?" Mark doesn't mean to sound so angry. He doesn't feel angry, only defeated. Maybe it's one of them leading to the other.

"Have you even," Jaebum retorts, "have you even tried?"

"Tried?" Mark guffaws. "Where am I supposed to start? Might as well wish on a shooting star because that's the best way of _trying_ I can think of."

The wings have shrunk their buzzing to a minuscule pin point at the base of Mark's neck. Like they're upset. Maybe that's Mark's fault. It's hard for him to give a shit.

Jaebum's eyes are hard, soft at the edges maybe, when he says. "I just wanted to tell you. About the comeback."

He reaches out his hand, moves to place it the same area of the wings he normally does. Only - only this time the wings give a sharp push to the back of Mark's brain and extend back into full wing span to keep Jaebum from touching them.

Mark, despite his anger, is surprised. He's rocked slightly by the strength and speed with which the wings unfolded from his back, but he regains his footing quickly. Jaebum is two steps further from him, eyes wide. Mark can see the edges of his bright white wing reflected in the dark of Jaebum's irises.

Jaebum clenches his teeth defiantly. "Sorry," he tells Mark - and maybe Mark's wings too - before he turns on his heals and leaves Mark by himself.

The wings stop digging at the back of Mark's brain, settling down. The fold themselves slightly - not tight against Mark's back again, but they're not at full wing span anymore. Bent slightly more at the highest point.

Mark looks at them silently. He lifts a hand and grasps the edge of one of the feathers gently, running it between finger and thumb. The wings buzz quietly in his skull.

Mark sighs, whispers "what do you want?"

The wings just continue their small tap-taping in his head, offering no answer.

 

-

 

Jaebum finds Mark the next day, pulling on a sweater with cut-open holes in the back, cut by him and Jackson for the wings to fit through. They still don't like that, Mark knows, but they complain about it to him less now.

"Mark, I -" Jaebum starts, scratching at the back of his neck, looking dejectedly at the floor. "I didn't mean to sound so . . . harsh. Yesterday. I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," Mark cuts him off. Because it is, because Jaebum's the leader and that's what that means, that's why they didn't make Mark the leader. "I didn't mean for -" Mark glances at one of his wings quickly, "for them to react like that."

The wings offer a hard poke to Mark's conscious. He brushes them off as usual.

"Did it - was it painful?" Jaebum asks. He takes a cautious step forward. The wings poke harder at Mark's thoughts - but they don't move. Mark shakes his head. "Does it hurt when I touch them?"

Mark tenses. What is he supposed to say. He breathes out a shaky "no". Jaebum takes another step closer.

"What does it -" Jaebum starts and then stops. His teeth click shut and he decides, instead, to step one more length closer to Mark and reach his hand out again slowly. The wings don't move. They go silent at their usual spot at the back of Mark's skull.

Mark's had them for a week and they've never been silent since that first time he felt them.

Jaebum's fingers touch the long body of one of the wing's feathers, and he runs them from tip to end. Mark lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding - and it comes out sounding almost like a whine.

Jaebum curls his hand fully around the edge of Mark's wing now, pulling the two of them closer together in the process. "Does it feel -"

" _Good_ ," Mark can't help but let it slip out, breathless and shaky. He screws his eyes shut and tries to breathe easier.

Mark expects Jaebum to stop now, to draw his hand back, experiment concluded. But he doesn't, he runs a light hand farther across Mark's wing. Mark's too wrapped up in feeling every moment of it to listen to what the wings are trying to tell him. His head is too fuzzy to even hear them through all of the other buzzing inside it.

Somehow, now, Mark and Jaebum are pressed together at the hips. And it's so embarrassing, the way Mark knows Jaebum can feel Mark's dick pressing into his thigh. The way Mark can't explain why it's happening. His face feels hot while the rest of his body tingles.

"Was it like this when I -," Again, Jaebum doesn't finish before Mark is furiously nodding. Jaebum's fingers are near where the wings disappear into Mark's back now. Mark can feel the heat of Jaebum's hands ghosting above his skin. "I thought so," Jaebum whispers, fitting a hand around the base of the wings. Mark shivers from head to toe. "I wasn't sure, though," Jaebum continues, "and I wanted to ask but I wasn't. I wasn't sure."

Jaebum's hand slips, brushing against Mark's skin finally. It's like flint igniting in a fire then. Mark can't stop himself from pulling Jaebum's collar so their mouths meet in a kiss.

Mark's unsure if that's the right thing to do - but Jaebum's sigh of relief assures him it is.

They stand like that, pressed together tight and kissing. Jaebum reaches both hands out to put one on each of Mark's wings. He works each feather over with light touches of the pads of his fingers, runs his hands along every heavy bone, massages his palms over muscles. His arms brush against Mark's flesh as they go and it's so much at once, sensory overload and Jaebum is finally - finally, getting hard against Mark's hip.

Jaebum breaks the kiss, suddenly, and takes his hands off Mark. It's only for a second really, but the loss is so sudden that Mark groans. The wings finally break through the fog in Mark's brain to tell him they protest too.

Jaebum is back on Mark quickly, though, turning him around and pressing him against the wall. Mark places his hands out in front of him, pushes his hips back so Jaebum can fit his hard on right up against Mark's ass. Which he does, sliding in between each wing like he belongs there.

The wings move, ever so slightly, to accommodate Jaebum better. They droop slightly when Jaebum gets his hands back on them, continuing his methodical exploration of every inch of them.

He pulls Mark's shirt off, too, starts pressing slow and wet kisses down Mark's spine. Mark's arms are shaking, he's caught between rocking forward against the wall for friction and back against Jaebum.

Mark just wants Jaebum to do something.

Anything.

Jaebum kisses just below Mark's hairline at his neck, says "I bet I could make you come just like this."

Mark chokes. He thinks Jaebum might be right, but that would take so long and Mark is so so warm and so so turned on and so is Jaebum. Mark tries to protest, really, but all that comes out is desperate "please."

Jaebum understands well enough, it seems. He drops his hand off the left wing and it's suddenly against the front of Mark's pants, rubbing his cock through them. Jaebum has one hand on his wing and one on his dick and his mouth against the knob of his spine and Mark tries to not think about it too much. Wants Jaebum's hand on his dick before he comes.

Jaebum indulges him. Mark couldn't be more thankful. He wiggles Mark's pants around his thighs and sticks his hand past the loose elastic of Mark's boxers. Jaebum bites hard into Mark's shoulder, then, chin brushing the top of the wings, giving Mark's dick a long stroke.

Mark's knees nearly buckle underneath him.

"I got you," Jaebum whispers, running his tongue over the bite he just left on Mark's shoulder. Mark can't speak, can barely let any noises escape even the most primal parts of him. Too much. Too overwhelmed.

Jaebum strokes Mark is a slow rhythm, building to Mark's orgasm slick slide by slick slide. Then, experimentally, Jaebum noses along the wing he doesn't have a hand on and - that's it. Mark nearly swallows his own tongue when he comes all over himself and Jaebum's hand.

Jaebum kisses Mark's spine one last time before extracting his hand from Mark's underwear, giving a wing one last long pet with his clean hand.

The wings give a content buzz at the back of Mark's head, as if telling him to turn around and return the favour.

Mark does.

 

-

 

They wake from a nap few hours later, daylight long gone and seemingly taken the wings with it.

"So," Jaebum says, single eyebrow lifted and creasing his forehead, "all they wanted was for me to jerk you off?"

Mark blushes a deep red, then almost sticks his head under the covers to hide it. That might be true. The wings might have only come to Mark to make him realize, make him do something. They might have had no intentions. An evil witch might have cursed him.

It doesn't matter now, Mark thinks. Jaebum leans in and kisses him again and Mark thinks, it doesn't matter. They're gone now. And the hole they've left in Mark's daily life is about the perfect size for Jaebum to fill.

**Author's Note:**

> working title for this fic was powers that be solve markbum romantic consptipation via sudden appearance of wings. this is by far the weirdest thing i've ever written. didn't mean for it to be this long. 
> 
> little out of practice for this group, also, so i hope this was alright regardless.


End file.
